


press me to your heart

by pleaseletmetouchyourbutt



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Finding Bucky, Flashbacks, Post!CAWS, Stephanie Rogers - Freeform, Steve POV, girl!steve - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleaseletmetouchyourbutt/pseuds/pleaseletmetouchyourbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sees him everywhere<br/>______</p><p>Stephanie Rogers (Girl!Steve) and her quest to find Bucky Barnes- it's not as difficult as she imagined it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	press me to your heart

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know...
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr: pleaseletmetouchyourbutt

She thinks it's funny, that the first time she sees him after all this time, after all those months of searching, is in a Quick-E Mart down the road from her apartment, while she's wearing tights and a big sweater, and that engagement ring he gave her when they turned eighteen.  
   
She stops dead when she sees him, holding a carton of skim milk in one hand and chocolate in the other. He'd buy the chocolate, she knew, because he had no impulse control when it came to food and drink. He seems to know she's there, because his head snaps around after a few seconds of her staring.  
   
His eyes lock onto hers and she opens her mouth to speak when-  
   
"Captain America?" It's a little girl, appearing out of nowhere to tug at her leg,"Could I please have a picture?"   
   
She glances down, "Just a second, sweetheart." When she looks back he's gone.  
   
The girls mother comes up,"I'm so sorry, miss. Is she bothering you?"  
   
"Pardon?" She says, turns to face the woman, "Oh, gosh, no. She just wants a picture, and I'm afraid I don't look much like Captain America this morning."   
   
"Of course, well thank you for dealing with her," The woman grabs her daughter's hand, tugs her away.   
   
Bucky. That's all she can think about as she moves forward, sees that the skim is still sitting there and the chocolate is gone. Bucky. Her Bucky. Sure, his hair is long, even tied back like he had it, and there's something off about him, but it's Bucky.   
   
And she lost him, again.  
   
\--  
  
 _Bucky spends most of his time wrapped up in memories. Sometimes they’re of his family, but most of the time they’re of her._  
  
 _Beautiful, funny, asthmatic Stephanie Rogers. Stephanie Rogers who pulled him weakly out of a fight, kneed the other boy in the crotch, and dragged him to the edge of the playground._  
  
 _That’s the first time he ever met her. Back before the war, when they were kids, and when someone stood up for you it was guaranteed you were going to get married._  
  
 _He vowed that to her that day, and she smacked him across the head._  
  
\--  
   
It happens again at the movies. She's walking out of the theatre with Bruce after seeing the new Godzilla movie, when she sees someone walk swiftly into the men's bathroom. Apparently Bruce sees him, too, because he stops dead.  
   
"Stephanie," He says softly, "Was that-”  
   
"Yeah, I think so," She answers, awestruck. She moves forwards, only to have Bruce grab her arm.  
   
"They'll kick you out of the theatre,” Bruce says gently, "Let me."   
   
He hurries across the lobby and disappears into the washroom. She stands paralyzed for a few moments before Bruce reappears, alone.  
   
"He's gone," He tells her, but she knows he's lying.  
   
She drops it.  
   
\--  
  
 _He sits on the fire escape of the building across the street from hers, thinks about the time when they were sixteen, sitting in the shade in Mount Prospect Park. Thinks about how she reached into their picnic basket and pulled out a crinkly package for a rubber, handing it to him expectantly._  
  
 _He thinks about how he was so excited he’d tripped over his own two feet on his way to kiss her, and she’d giggled so hard she’d snorted._  
  
 _Thinks about how he’d just gotten her out of her dress when the woman who ran the corner store came into their secret alcove and shrieked._  
  
 _He thinks that the pastor might have boxed his ears for attempting to defile sweet Stephanie Rogers._  
  
\--  
   
It doesn't happen again for six months. Then, when she gets on the subway, he sits down on her left.  
   
"Why?" She asks, very softly, "Why are you running from me?"  
   
"I'm not right yet, Steph," He says, with the same voice that he used to use to tell her she was beautiful, that she was his forever girl, that he loved her.  
   
"Okay," She says, again, so very quietly she's afraid he won't hear it.  
   
He reaches his familiar human arm over, gently touches the small diamond on the ring, runs a finger down the simple gold band.  
   
"I've never taken it off," She tells him, when he takes his hand back, "Not once."   
   
She watches out of the corner of her eye, as he reaches up to his neck and unzips his hoodie, just enough so she can see the thin leather cord with the old, tarnished coin hanging off of it. She made it for him when they were ten, and she saw that he adored the way some old movie star had worn one.  
   
She clenches her jaw, hands tightening into fists, "How?"  
   
"I broke the hand of the first guy that tried to take it off," Bucky says, "I didn't even remember you, and you were everything."   
   
\--  
  
 _He gave her the ring when they turned eighteen. That he remembers clearly, now that he’s so close to being Bucky Barnes again, the man who almost deserves the pure soul that is Stephanie Rogers._  
  
 _He’d dropped to one knee in her kitchen a week after her mother’s funeral, had lifted the box with shaking hands and sputtered, “You’re it for me, Steph.”_  
  
 _She hadn’t cried, because she wasn’t the crying type, but she did let him put the ring on her finger and hauled him up for a kiss._  
  
 _They had tangled themselves together, bare and warm, in her bed and he had woken up with his head pillowed on her breasts, one of her hands carding through his hair._  
  
 _He can safely say he’s never felt better than when he was pressed to her heart._  
  
\--  
   
She doesn't see him for three months. Then, one day, he's sitting in her apartment when she comes home.  
   
He's holding a pair of scissors, perched on her counter in the kitchen.  
   
"I need a haircut," He says quietly, when she enters with arms full of groceries.  
   
"Only if you stay this time," She tells him, places the bags on the table.  
   
He pauses, then looks at her, eyes calm, "I never left. I was always around, watching you, making sure you were okay."  
   
"Fine," She says, crosses the tiles and moves herself to stand between his knees, "Stay where I can see you, where I can help you."  
   
He stares at her like she's too close, but also too far away, "Anything you want."   
   
She cuts his hair in front of the hall mirror until he looks like her Bucky again, save for the arm. It doesn't scare her, like he says it should.  
   
She runs a hand down it, when she's done with his hair, from the shoulder to the fingertips. He watches her reflection intently, looking for fear or disgust.  
   
She feels none, so she hopes he sees none. Just in case, leans forwards and up, presses a kiss where the metal meets skin. He tenses for a fraction of a second, and then he's turning towards her. He slides his other hand onto her back and then he's curling down towards her, to bury his face in her neck and shake.  
   
She wraps both arms around him, pressing soothing kisses to his temple, his cheek, doesn't flinch when the metal arm winds its way into place around her shoulders.   
   
"It's okay," She says quietly, "You're fine, I'm here."  
  
\--  
  
 _He’s never going to leave again. There’s no way he can leave the warmth of her new Brooklyn apartment, can leave her side when she’s fighting the world, can deprive himself of the sight of her rolling out of bed in the morning._  
  
 _There’s no way he’s selfless enough to stop staring at that old, tarnished gold band on her finger._  



End file.
